


I Think Your Gun is Bigger than Mine

by inhaleexhale



Category: 24, Supernatural
Genre: Alley Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inhaleexhale/pseuds/inhaleexhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunters are good at recognizing other predators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think Your Gun is Bigger than Mine

He’s a pretty man. And he’s openly staring at Dean.

Dean feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise, has already caught him staring twice from the reflection in his glass of whiskey.

The man is a hunter, like Dean and not.

Hunters are good at recognizing other predators. The man ogling Dean with a frank appreciation is a man who has fed a dark passenger inside, has seen the light fade from fearful eyes as death reaps another soul.

Dean pushes the curiosity from his mind. Hunters are also the best kind of fuck, in his widely experienced opinion. Dean doesn’t have to know what the man does, just needs to know he’s willing and can give it to him rough and messy.

He turns to give the man a cheeky grin.

The man returns a small, knowing smirk and makes his way over to the bar. Dean hopes he’s not foolish enough to think of Dean as easy prey. It’s no fun that way.

“I want to be inside of you tonight,” he whispers in Dean's ear. Every word slides down Dean’s spine to pool hot in his groin. Straightforward and all wrapped up in an appealing, Russian package. Dean can appreciate that.

He chuckles, low and already aroused. “Lead the way.”

The man doesn’t move until Dean makes eye contact. He’s a goner for those blue eyes, frigid but for the warmth of lust. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants, and he wants Dean. 

Dean’s a little grateful that he wants the same thing. There may have been consequences otherwise, the kind where he just disappears to sleep with the fishes and no one bothers to ask why.

Dean thinks about how long it’s been since he talked to Sam or Dad. The man would get a pretty good head start, if Dean were an ordinary man. But Dean’s not, he’s a dark thing, and he could kill this man like he killed that werewolf not two hours ago.

Dean’s pretty sure the guy knows that Dean isn’t some dainty wallflower. He licks his lips like he’s getting off on it. Rough and messy, it is.

Good thing the guy has hair long enough for Dean to grab and tug when he’s riding him within an inch of his life.

The man is grace and tightly coiled power as he weaves through the crowd. Dean follows a respectful distance behind where he can get a good look at his ass.

He’s getting impatient. He wants this now. Why are they still walking? All a quick fuck needs is a solid surface sturdy enough to support bodies rutting and deep thrusts.

Dean spots the alley in the corner of his eye. He doesn’t think, just acts; he grabs the man’s wrist to guide him into the alley and throws him against the wall.

Dean tenses for the man’s reaction. It’s a pretty dominant display of ‘who’s boss’, but the man is pleased, if the sultry ‘fuck me’ look is anything to go by.

That look is a Dean Winchester specialty. “I thought you wanted me to bottom, buddy.”

The man quirks his head, and Dean gets the odd feeling like Dean’s just said something he doesn’t like.

“My name is Alexis,” the man says coolly, “and I’ll enjoy hearing you scream it loudly for me.” Dean shivers. So that’s how this will go. He’s fine with that. Alexis has a nice enough ring to it. Dean can say it real pretty like the man wants.

He drops to his knees and works open Alexis’s pants. He can smell the money, see the way out-of-Dean’s-league class this guy has got on like a second skin.

It’s a decent cover for a killer.

Dean distracts himself from following that line of thought through by sucking on the head of Alexis’s dick, brazenly tonguing the slit and working the base with his hand.

He hums pleasantly around the cock in his mouth with every groan he draws from Alexis’s lips. He looks up to soak in the sight, thinking he’ll see Alexis’s head tilted back and his eyes closed. He’s surprised to see instead that Alexis hasn’t taken his eyes off of him for a second.

Dean’s kind of an exhibitionist anyway, so he sucks harder and laves his tongue wherever it will reach. He wants Alexis to watch Dean break him apart.

He thinks he’s getting there, feels spit and precome mix and stream down his chin before there’s a forceful pull at the back of his head. Alexis slips his cock out of Dean’s mouth before he finishes, and Dean whines because he wanted a taste, dammit. He’s got just enough time to pout with swollen, red, glistening lips before he’s the one against the wall, Alexis furiously ripping his jeans down his legs.

“I hope you came prepared,” Dean mutters as brick bites into his cheek. Alexis softly laughs and Dean feels a little panic.

“We have everything we need,” Alexis murmurs into his ear. Dean turns his neck at a far greater degree than it’s made for, but he wants to watch, wants to see Alexis swirl his tongue around two fingers he knows will open him up and fuck him out. It can’t be too soon.

Alexis just gives Dean that not-quite-a-smile. He moans when he hears the wet pop the fingers make as they leave Alexis’s lips and head for Dean’s hole. He can’t believe how much he wants this.

He feels them circle puckered flesh, smearing meager slickness and then suddenly he’s being filled up, but it’s not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Alexis leans over, possessive and strong, and bites down on Dean’s shoulder. He apologizes after Dean’s pained cry.

“I wanted to see how you would look marked by me,” he purrs.

“Romantic, dude,” Dean grits out as Alexis moves his fingers, compelling Dean’s flesh to make room for Alexis’s cock.

“Fuck. Alexis, you need to get in me right now,” Dean hisses. The fingers slip out and Dean takes advantage of the momentary lull to change position and face Alexis. At his questioning frown, Dean simply says, “I want it like this.” Wanna see you when you come.

Alexis shrugs and pulls a lubricated condom from his coat, infinitely more wrinkled than when he first caught him devouring Dean with his eyes.

He rolls it down his cock, and Dean groans at the display. He grins, wild and with teeth at Alexis before he pushes into Dean’s space, between his thighs. Dean braces his back against the wall and lifts his legs to wrap around his waist.

Alexis takes his weight easy, moving to position his dick to go where Dean fucking needs it most.

“C’mon, pal. Fuck me already.”

Alexis gives him that little up quirk of lips, and then he sinks into Dean, slow and smooth and perfect.

Dean revels in the burn, needing the edge of pain. It just makes it so much better.

Alexis bottoms out, and Dean feels him stumble under Dean’s weight for a second before collecting himself. Dean throws one arm around him for support and lets the other play in his blond locks like he’s wanted to since he first saw them.

It feels like an eternity before Dean breaks, begs, “Move, please, please, move.”

Alexis complies, shallow thrusts deepening into long, hard strokes. It’s good. Dean wants bruises in the morning.

He threads his fingers in Alexis’s hair, moves his hips as much as he can manage. He loves every gasp Alexis makes, rejoices in the heavy breathing permeating the air.

It’s always been best when it was dangerous. There’s not a better word to describe the man moving inside of him now, fucking him so hard Dean thinks he must be leaving an imprint of his back on the wall.

It’s a shame this is something they can only have tonight, just one time.

Alexis is struggling to keep his eyes open, absolutely refusing to look away from Dean even as the curtain of his eyelids threaten to fall.

Dean returns the stare, feeling vulnerable in a way sex has never been before. Alexis is looking at Dean like he wants to see Dean’s soul.

It’s terribly intimate, especially when they haven’t even kissed.

Dean thinks that’s a damn shame when he catches pink tongue run past Alexis’s bottom lip. He leans forward to taste, to connect. He’s so alike Alexis in all of the wrong ways.

Alexis kisses back with passion and dominance. It feels like war, the way they trade kisses like blows. It’s the kind only people like them can do.

Alexis begins to thrust frantically, rhythm lost in desperation to get there, and Dean helps himself along, releasing the arm around Alexis’s shoulder to stroke his throbbing dick off.

He sees it, when Alexis’s eyes glaze over, his face tensing almost painfully before relaxing into the beginnings of the ecstasy of orgasm. It hits Dean and he holds true to Alexis’s word and screams his name.

Dean’s legs slide off and his feet hit the ground with a heavy thud. Alexis slips out and quickly divests himself of the condom and throws it to the ground. He turns away from Dean, and he’s kind of hurt by that. Dean’s not one for pillow talk or after sex cuddles, but this was particularly mind blowing sex.

He’d like at least one more kiss before Alexis leaves.

Alexis turns abruptly, and Dean is captivated by his blue eyes. He fervently wishes that he’ll see them again after tonight, but it’s a vain hope and he knows it.

Alexis works his jaw like he wants to say something, but he decides against it. Instead, it’s like he heard Dean’s wish, and he kisses him soft and surprisingly sweet.

He pulls back with a frown and his eyes search Dean’s face for something he can’t place.

“I think I would like to have known you in another life,” Alexis says. Dean nods. He feels the same way.

Dean watches Alexis until he walks out of sight.

He lets out a shaky sigh and starts heading back to the Impala, the twinge in his ass a friendly reminder of what just happened.

The memory of those eyes will haunt him until the end of his days, Dean knows it. Maybe when this life is done there will be another one, and Alexis will be there, willing to explore all of the things they can't in this one.

Dean grins when he opens the door, slides across the leather seat and starts the ignition.

It’s a nice thought, and he doesn’t have many of those these days.


End file.
